Sigyn, Goddess of Fidelity

[motherofmourning]

lordofliars:

Despite all she had said, it was hard for Loki to believe her words. He’d never been in love, even though he’d been told by others that he himself was loved. And to be loved by her. Sigyn actually loved him. He’d never felt this… feeling before, and it was impossible for him to put it into words. 

He’d always assumed Odin was pleased with knowing his lesser son would be married to a peasant girl. It seemed to give him some sort of satisfaction, Loki noticed, when he’d told he and Thor the news. It was like he was planning his marriage to Sigyn as a punishment - though, for what, Loki wasn’t sure. 

To Loki’s great satisfaction, that plan backfired.

Loki hugged his wife tightly in return, shifting his weight to pull her small frame fully into his lap. He couldn’t describe the way her body felt when close to his own. It felt right, and if Odin had known, before betrothing them, how they truly felt… well, he probably never would have married them. “I do,” he stated quietly, simply. “I love you.” He lifted a gentle hand to her hair, petting her long locks all the way down their length. He gave her a real, genuine smile when she pulled back to look at him. “We are wed. I wager you never thought that would happen.”

There was a small nagging feeling, a small voice in Sigyn’s heart - no, her very soul, now fully shared with the one before her - that sang of Loki’s doubts to her, making them known whether he had consciously allowed that information to leave his own thoughts or not. But Sigyn did not blame him for feeling apprehensive, of course! After all, had she not felt the same way? 

There were countless factors to include with his own trepidation surrounding the newfound love between them; the main one being, of course, that the young prince had been raised the less valuable side of the royal coin, and had undoubtedly been told by his father that he was, in many ways, unlovable. The mere thought made Sigyn take both of his cold hands in hers, squeezing tightly as he told her once again what she had always only dreamed of hearing from his talented lips.

Sigyn giggled when he smiled and spoke, and her nose scrunched as she responded, a little laugh still caught in her throat. “No, I most certainly did not,” she confirmed her cheeks reddening. “I thought… well, I suppose I had expected to meet another Theoric and marry him. I had always presumed that it was my fate - to be fundamentally unhappy, to be without you. But none of that matters now.”

Unable to contain herself any longer, the young princess leaned forward to kiss the bright smile off Loki’s lips, tenderly and softly - but she did not get carried away. She had other plans, more or less, even though the lack of clothing between the both of them did prove as a distracting temptation, even though thinking such things (even after the night they’d had) made her blush furiously and giggle once again, forcing her to break their kiss. 

“I truly do love you, Loki,” she said, worrying that perhaps even the heavy bombardment of her feelings had not been enough to cement the fact into his mind.” And not out of a royal obligation to love and cherish you as your wife, but in a way that I can scarcely even explain to you with mere words. I always have, and I always will, love you with all of my body and soul - I am yours, Loki Odinson. Forever.”

Her stomach was flipping constantly, and her mind reeled with the new, comforting presence that her new husband provided in every corner of her waking mind. She had never, ever been happier than she was right then, and she was sure her beaming smile - along with her actual feelings of love, excitement, and contentment flowing his way - would make that quite obvious to Loki.

“So,” she said happily, leaning back covering herself with her fur once more. “What do newly wed couples usually do on their first day? In my village, things would be as they always were - the wife would begin cleaning, and the husband would work,” she explained, and leaned forward to kiss him again. “But seeing as we aren’t doing that…”

[motherofmourning]

the warmth after the storm

[motherofmourning]

lordofliars:

Loki made his way towards the palace doors. He’d told his father, much to his anger, that it was his own, self-proclaimed day off. No more royal meetings with the nobles of Asgard, no more listening in on - but never being allowed to comment about - foreign affairs, such as Asgard’s tense relationship with Jotunnheim (his father always made him sit in when the advisors and foreign affairs diplomats discussed Jotunnheim). No more. Not today.

He took a deep breath before opening the doors to the Hel that awaited him outside. Almost immediately, Loki could feel himself working up a sweat as he started walking. He was heat-sensitive, his mother would tell him. He always had been, as far back as he could recall. He would have to come inside after only a few minutes play in the summer and, sometimes, spring; all while Thor and the other children could play for hours. But he was never like the other children, not really. The only true friend he ever had was Sigyn.

Sigyn. The name felt good on his lips - just as it had, told through whispers, that fateful night. Loki had been with other women, of course, but this, this had been different. It wasn’t lust, or anything close to it. He and Sigyn -  they had shed all pretense for what he guessed was the first time in both of their lives. And it was different, and exciting, and it just felt natural.

The two had only seen each other maybe three times in the past two months. It was like torture, in some form or another. He knew his father knew about what had happened - those damn ravens - and Odin was, to say the least, anything but happy. He didn’t approve of his son “messing around with” a peasant girl, so he made up for it by punishing him: Giving him at least triple the amount of duties that Thor was usually given, and he was heir to the throne. 

Loki just wanted to spend time with her again, just like they used to before they’d gone to bed together. He missed what they’d had that night; snacking on forbidden food, desperately holding laughter so as not to wake anyone, and gentle kisses in the moonlight. He wanted that again. He wanted his Sigyn, and he didn’t care that she was, technically, below him in status. He just wanted to go get her, bring her back to the castle and show her everything she didn’t get to see that night.

And, in the scorching heat, that’s exactly what he did - just as he had a thousand times before, just as he would a thousand times again. 

He came in sight of the little, rickety gate in front of Sigyn’s home in the early morning hours. He placed his hands behind his back, his posture straightening even more when he saw her sitting on their bench. He gave her a sly smile, hiding well that he felt like his insides were melting. “Sigyn,” he said in return, moving towards her but stopping himself before sitting down. “I plan on staying, yes. Or going, whichever you prefer, as long as you come along.” He sat down gracefully, blessing the gods for the reprieve from heat in the shade of the thatched roof. He finally noticed her pallor, and a worried look made its way onto pale features. “Are you well, love?”

The mere sound of Loki’s voice was enough to send chills down Sigyn’s spine, which was unprecedented in the heat - but she was no longer surprised at the effect the prince had on her. She had long since accepted her fate of being wobbly-kneed and breathless at the sight of him, and their night together had only cemented that fact into reality. But she would not have it any other way.

Except, perhaps, she would have it so that she was not with child - but for no reason other than the trouble it might cause Loki. A prince getting any girl pregnant was scandalous, to say the very least - but a peasant girl! And a peasant the Allfather already didn’t have any fondness for… it was a recipe for disaster, and any joy that Sigyn had felt by seeing Loki walk closer washed away, even as he sat down next to her.

The sun was rising over the thatched roof, and Sigyn could tell the day would only get hotter from that hour forth. No more would the worn “cottage” provide any solace, though Sigyn was happy to have the sun shining. It shined light on the opportunity for her to tell him, and perhaps the sunlight would lessen the shock caused by her words…

But Sigyn knew that it was foolish - perhaps even selfish - of her to think. Loki had always been quite sensitive to the heat, any heat, and this day was no exception. She could clearly see the gleam of sweat on his now translucent skin, and all thoughts of worry subsided as concern replaced the fear of her situation. 

Nevertheless, his seemingly excited demeanor at seeing Sigyn - coupled with the maddening way his lips curved when he said love - made her smile. “I’ll go anywhere you go - you know that,” Sigyn said softly and with gentle affection, glancing into his eyes - but she moved her gaze away a moment later to answer his question. 

“I am well,” she said, sounding all too like the bad liar that she was. “But come, we must go to the shade. The well is shaded at this hour - and we can get some cool water, too.” Sigyn was refusing to meet his eyes, and she knew he would notice. All the same, she stood, taking his hand by instinct alone and leading him to the north side of the tiny farm that she called home. 

The dilapidated stone well was situated under a large, elderly tree that had long since stopped fruiting. The area wouldn’t see its first visitors until the next hour or so, when the farmers’ wives and female children came for the day’s bucketfuls of water. Sigyn knew it well, for she had always been one of them; but she scarcely felt well enough to do so, even to help Loki - but ill-fated timing was not enough to stop her.

Luckily for Sigyn (and probably Loki, too, for he seemed in desperate need of liquid nourishment), the well was always easiest to use in the mornings before the water level drained so low that it took three times as long to get one bucket back. She kindly refused any help Loki would offer (he was royalty!) and pulled the bucket up herself, using the small horned cup that always sat at the base of the well to offer Loki the first cup of fresh, cold water. She sat down on the soft grass and leaned back against the coolness of the stones, waiting for Loki to follow suit before smiling lovingly at her black-haired prince.

“Loki,” she said, her tone tired and defeated. There was the smallest of smiles on her lips, though it was not a grin of happiness - rather, it was the tiny curve of a sad smile; a look one might have before telling someone something that they do not wish to hear. “I - I have news.” It was here that the inevitable tears welled in her blue eyes, though she - somehow - successfully willed them to stay in the brim of her eyes, rather than spilling out onto already dampened cheeks. 

“I - I am -” She finally opened her eyes, fully meeting his gaze for the first time since he had seen her that day. “I am with child.”

[motherofmourning]

rougeblancandbleu:

Kennedy was relieved at the goddess’ ability to kickstart all of their conversations - she knew she wouldn’t be able to. How could you possibly start a conversation with someone who’s probably already talked about everything in the past one thousand years? What do you say?

She could feel it when Sigyn tensed; you could practically cut the air with a knife. She must have thought of something about Kennedy that she didn’t like. Kennedy tensed slightly in return, wondering what could’ve happened to cause such a change in body language. She nearly asked if everything was okay when the other woman (“woman”) spoke. “Yeah, that’s what Ronan said. He mentioned that was why Jane couldn’t stay for too long - when she wasn’t possessed by the Aether, I mean. That was probably a different story altogether.”

Kennedy nodded at the other’s words. “I don’t blame you.” She said it quietly, knowingly. She wanted her to know she was completely on her side, unlike her Uncle Tony. She continued with a quiet tone. “I know how it feels to love someone people hate, all without knowing a damn thing about them. They just don’t understand. They don’t want to understand. They seem to enjoy it, anyway, even though it makes other people suffer.” She looked down then, feeling just a tad insecure about her speech.“Sorry,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean to go off like that.“

Sigyn did not often feel any sort of kinship with anyone. The circumstances which brought her to where she was and the events that made her who she was made it more than a little difficult to find anyone with whom to connect - with the exception of Loki, of course. They were each other’s center of gravity; they were each other’s shared soul. And so to try and find an affinity with a girl that was not only inching Sigyn’s own son away from her, but that was so inherently opposite from who the goddess was… it was a struggle, to say the least.

But it would not be the first time that Sigyn had struggled for her children, and it would most certainly not be the last.

“Indeed. What happened to Jane, and what happened on Svartalfheim was a very dark time,” Sigyn said, inhaling softly through her teeth. The memory was so intense that for a moment the goddess had to think over her words carefully in order not to rant and rave about a time long passed. “Jane’s encounter with the Aether changed her physiology, I believe. I would need to ask my husband to be sure, of course, but I’m fairly certain that she can stay for longer periods now. At what cost, however, I am not sure,” she continued, her tone lowering in a dark remembrance. “Possession is never to be taken lightly. It… changes you.”

Sigyn blinked away the darkness in her eyes, but the heaviness in her heart was not to be so easily swayed. Being in the royal family meant that run-ins with the darker side of the magical arts was to be expected, and the results were as one would expect - disastrous. She couldn’t count on her fingers how many times she, Loki, Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three (and William, on rare and brave occasions) had encountered possession in some shape or form, and all of those encounters had ended in one of them being scarred - both mentally and/or physically. And that was not even touching the surface of the full extent of the horrors or possession, it would turn out - Thanos had proved that much.

Sigyn listened to Kennedy’s speech, and found her heart tugging her in two different directions; something it did not often do. She appreciated the girl’s plight - she cared deeply for Ronan, and worried about he was treated. That made Sigyn happy, surely! To know her son was loved so dearly by his fiancé was comforting, and yet the other’s apparent naivety struck Sigyn like a bolt of electricity to her heart.

Kennedy knew of Midgard’s hatred of all things alien and different. Sigyn suspected she knew it quite well, given her family’s rather different genes. But what Kennedy did not yet know was Asgard’s similar, yet so much more cruel, animosity towards aliens - towards Frost Giants. While Sigyn was sure that she knew of the prejudice against her fiancé on his home world, it would be hard to fully grasp until seen in person. Ronan and his father were targeted like archery dummies the moment they stepped foot upon Asgardian soil, and the hatred Ronan would receive would not be solely for his skin color as it undoubtedly was on Midgard - no, the hatred bestowed upon Loki and (perhaps more severely so) Ronan was stronger than anything Midgard had to offer, Sigyn thought. She was concerned as to what Kennedy’s reaction to it would truly be.

“There’s no need to be sorry,” she assured her, hands unfolding from her lap so that she could stand slowly and make her way to the window seat not far from where Kennedy was sitting. The coldness emanating from the window did not bother her; her small, silent mission was to look into the expansive garden to try and catch a glimpse of her husband and their son. With no luck, she took a small breath and turned to face Kennedy once again, even going so far as to motion for the girl to come sit next to her. Sigyn was known for many things, but a loud speaker was not one of them.

“I know that you haven’t been out and about overly much while you’ve been here,” she said, trying to ease into her explanation. “But you might find that when you do venture forth into the other districts, Asgard’s reaction to Ronan will not be as it is on Midgard. It is much, much worse here, I’m afraid. He is, for all intents and purposes, a Frost Giant on Asgard. They -” Sigyn found herself flustered, and had to lick dry lips and take another short breath; her corset was prohibiting most of her efforts to take deeper ones. “They - the ones who hate Giants - have tried to harm him before. Many times. And Loki, of course. ’Tis one of the reasons we chose to raise Ronan and his siblings on Midgard, too, so that we could keep him safe.”

[motherofmourning]

lordofliars:

Loki’s left hand fell from the worn doorknob at Sigyn’s next words. He turned to look at her then, feeling somewhat frustrated at her insistence that she would be a terrible wife. “Sigyn,” he said calmly, with a hint of worry in his voice. He was concerned for her; she was an absolute wreck over the idea of him being made to marry her. Gods only knew why. “Sigyn,” he repeated, turning to face her. “We have known each other for quite some time now. Marrying you is not… It’s not…” He stopped himself. Not what? He continued quietly, avoiding her gaze. “Not a punishment, like I said. You’re neither a punishment, nor a prize to be won. You’re to be my wife.”

When she slid from out of her covers - which, it turned out, were covering quite a bit - he had to turn his head away. She was in a state of undress; he could practically see through her chemise, especially with the light coming through the window behind her. His avoidance of  her gaze - and, well, all of her - stopped as soon as she said those words. You deserve better. She was to marry the younger son - no, the lesser son - in a family of dysfunctional royals, where she held no ties or connections to their socials circles. The last thing in the Nine Realms he wanted was to force her into that life - his life. She would be treated no better by the Allfather than he was - and he was the one who deserved better? “No,” he said quietly, without thinking. He moved towards her, standing close enough so that he had to look down to see her properly. “You’ve no idea what you’re being forced into. You deserve better.”

Being a wife had never been something that Sigyn had ever strove for - at least, not anyone’s that she could have. But now, with her one dream coming true in front of her, she couldn’t help but feel guilty for being even a little joyous at such a turn in events. Her happiness to be wed to Loki would surely not bring him the same feelings - though his comforting words were tempting to believe, as they always were. And perhaps to some extent she did believe him; perhaps she was not seen as a punishment in his eyes. But perhaps there was more to be said, as well - and he simply did not want to say it. Still, Sigyn nodded slightly in response - or simply just in acknowledgment - of his words, wanting nothing less than for him to feel ignored.

Her gaze dared not meet his, but a quick glance in his direction told her that he was doing the same by avoiding her eyes, too. It felt strange to be in such an odd stance with him. The two were usually quick to understand the other, with less and less words needed as the years went by. And now, stuck in her room with life-altering news hanging over them… it seemed as though things had inevitably changed, and Sigyn would have happily given up her dream engagement for things to have been like they were before - a carefree and thoughtless friendship that both needed desperately as an escape from their rather rigorous lifestyles. It now seemed to Sigyn to be in the past; and it proved itself to be only another reason for tears to spring to her eyes.

So out of it was she that the only cause for her to reach for her thin robe was the cold, and she wrapped it around herself as her head began to throb from all of the fuss and movement. However much she wanted to, it felt rude to sit down again; and so she stood, turning to face Loki as his closeness became very evident to her. She swallowed dryly, forcing herself to stay calm even when she could practically feel the coldness of his breath on the tip of her already rosy, chilled nose.

Sigyn’s chin raised so that she could meet Loki’s gaze properly, glassy blue eyes staring into clear green ones. “I know royal life is not always what it’s made out to be,” she assured him softly, a tiny, knowing smile on her lips. “But I do not deserve even that. Don’t you see?” She was crying now, even despite her brave but futile efforts to stop. “I’m a peasant, inside and out - and very much outwardly. I’m… shabby and I’m not worth anything if I’m not working. I have no skills - no sewing or embroidery or - or musical talents, or any measurable social skills to count on,” she said brokenly, not angry in the slightest; she was speaking as though these things would all matter to him, even though deep inside of her she knew that this was far from the truth.

 She was shivering, though if it was a fever or shock she did not know; she pulled the robe righter around her small frame. “And I’m ill so very much, I - I can’t possibly be a princess!” Thin aiir got caught in her throat as she struggled to speak again: “I can’t possibly be… your princess, Loki. You deserve the right to choose. To choose someone worthy of you."

[motherofmourning]

the warmth after the storm

Her eyes fluttered open with the slow uneasiness of new wakefulness. The darkness of her shared room told her it was not dawn, and the direction of the moonlight through the windows told her it was only about three in the morning. With only a tattered chemise to keep her covered, Sigyn pulled herself from the measly blanket of her bed and stood on sore feet, tip-toeing unbalanced from the room her siblings were still sleeping in.

The house was as quiet as a graveyard. Her father didn’t get up until four, and her mother usually slept until seven - allowing Sigyn to pull the weight of the chores (laundry took up most of her day, with cooking three meals and cleaning the house filtered between loads of dirty clothes); she usually started around five.

But today Sigyn did not feel well enough to do much of anything - physically or mentally.

Making her way outside and into the warmth of spring with only a small robe over her chemise, Sigyn found her way to the small, rickety bench in the front yard, guided only by the light of the cosmos above her. She was already warm in the humidity, but the warmth provided a better solace than inside, where her anxieties multiplied by a tenfold each time she realized she was in a house full of people who would loath and disown her if they only knew what she had done.

Two shaking hands went to white-blonde hair, pushing the tangled knots away from the pale skin of her features. In her own mind, what had happened was not a mistake - was anything? Wasn’t everything set before them by the gods, in some form of fate or destiny? Sigyn didn’t consider herself spiritual (or educated) enough to know the answers, but she did know one thing.

Her long, starry night with Loki two months ago had not been a thoughtless blunder made by two people too young to know better. How could it have been a mistake, when she had been so happy ever since? Sigyn would admit that she had not seen Loki but… perhaps three times since their night together, though it was no choice of either of theirs. Their continuous efforts to spend more time together in the following week had been a disaster - Loki had mysteriously been given tenfold the royal duties, and Sigyn had predictably been given double the chores. The night they had shared together had not since been duplicated by any means, but Sigyn still felt as if her heart was soaring above her own body from the mere memory of it.

It had been a dreadful night for both of them. Loki had received a punishment for something he had not done - accused of lies that he had not told - and Sigyn had been accused of laziness by her family and had been punished accordingly with more chores and even less time for herself. Loki had come to her house for solace, as he so often did (to her great enjoyment), but had found her all but swooning in the yard from her workload. Loki then immediately took her to the back entrance of the palace, which had been easy given the late hour. They had eaten in secret behind the palace’s kitchens, laughing quietly and enjoying the edible delicacies that they were never allowed to partake in. 

Loki, fearing for what would be waiting for her at her own home since her absence, had refused to let her venture out into the sleet of an ending winter to return there. They had walked slowly to his room in the royal wing, and he carried her shoes in one hand and her own hand in the other. They had stopped outside his room, unsure of what to do next - staying together in a room, even with innocent intentions, would have been more than frowned upon by anyone who found out; not to mention, Thor’s room was very close by.

But there had been a beat, a silent moment where no fear of being seen had found its way into the shrinking space between them. Their eyes had met, and any silly conversation died out within a second. The kiss they had then shared did not feel strange, or shocking in the least; and it had certainly not been the last of the night.

A mistake would surely not make her feel so elated. But then again, Sigyn was not all happiness and contentment - not in the least. Her trip to the village healer the day prior had proved that her joy had been fleeting, albeit true and real. Instead of exuberance, Sigyn now felt ill in both mind and body.

Sigyn was with child. Loki’s child.

The hot air of a new summer quickly pulled her from her thoughts with a strong gust of wet wind, and it felt a though the tears on her cheeks would melt there. It was nearly dawn, and Sigyn stood wearily to move back inside so that no one would know she had ever been out of bed, but movement on the wet and muddy path in front of her house caught her eye. 

In the slight glimmer of a beginning dawn, Sigyn saw him - walking confidently with his hands behind his back, walking right towards her. A sly and easy smile appeared on his lips, ones that she had once upon a time felt on her own skin and kissed in the passion of a secluded night.

With no control over her own body, she felt herself sitting back down rather ungracefully on the bench that wobbled dangerously beneath her. The state of her undress hardly mattered between them, but she pulled the robe closer to her to protect herself from the wind that seemed to have woken up with the sun. She felt an inner coldness despite the warmth, but it was like a fever that could never be broken.

“Loki,” Sigyn said, once he was close enough to hear her. She could now see that he was pale, too, and seemed to be sweating a little more than what would normally be expected in mild heat. “I didn’t know you were coming. Please, sit - we’re the only ones who ever use this bench, it seems. Will you stay for long?” Say yes, she begged in her mind, I need to talk to you.

[motherofmourning]

lordofliars:

Loki was still reeling from the realization that Sigyn, his Sigyn, actually loved him. He ran his thumbs across her jaw, searching her eyes for something he couldn’t quite name. But when she tensed up and pulled her hands away from him, Loki couldn’t help but tense in return. He could feel that she was insecure about him finding out about her feelings, and that she always had been. She was worried he didn’t love her in return; he would know that much even without their newfound connection.

He shook his head just slightly at her question, shifting ever closer to her. “No,” he started softly, “no, you haven’t ruined anything.” He could feel her thoughts racing in her mind. She was terrified. She felt that he wasn’t ready for her love, when the truth was far from it. He’d been saved by it. “Shh, shh, it’s quite alright,” he whispered, hoping to alleviate some of her fears and worries. “It’s alright.” 

Tell her the truth.

The thought came to him seemingly out of the blue - those very words often did. It wasn’t advice he often listened to, as can be expected from the future God of Lies. For once in his life, though, he listened. “I…” he paused then, preparing himself for the upcoming words that he knew would sound strange coming from his own mouth. “I love you,” he said, his voice filled to the brim with the shared emotions that were running high between the both of them. He leaned forward, placing a gentle, barely-there kiss on her lips. He kept his next words quiet, as if there was a possibility of someone listening in. “I love you.”

Through all her panic, through all her vain attempts to control her feelings from flowing from her, Loki’s words struck her heart; You haven’t ruined anything, it’s alright. ’Twas not often at all that she had ever heard those words; not from her family, certainly not from Theoric, and not even from anyone through her more than terrifying engagement.

But his voice was so gentle, so genuine, and Sigyn had a hard time believing that his words were anything but true. Even though she had enough sense to know he was simply trying to calm her down, she also knew that he was being honest; and his quiet words and soft shushes calmed quite a bit, so much so that she couldn’t hear her own heart beating in her chest anymore.

Sigyn found herself entranced as Loki began talking, and she was hanging on his broken sentence as if it were a cliff of the universe. She truly expected him to continue with his reassurances, and she would have had no problem with being comforted by him - the one person she could ever truly say she loved, her husband, her… her Loki.

But his words weren’t of comfort or reassurance. Instead, they were a confession of love, not unlike her own had been moments before - though they were in the form of words rather than just the crushing arrival of feelings, as could be expected by Asgard’s most talented wordsmith. Sigyn felt the air leave her lips in a slow, warm exhale, and suddenly she was very aware that she wasn’t wearing a corset; had she been, she most definitely would have blacked out from the sheer shock of hearing what she’d always only dreamed of hearing from his lips.

Loki couldn’t love her! She was… nothing! She was nothing in comparison to him! His very being was so far above her that she would often dream of wishing upon a star named for him, for surely that’s where he belonged; among the stars and cosmos like the ones in his eyes - while she was simply on the homely ground, washing laundry and looking up, always up, towards him. Their arranged marriage had not changed her thoughts; only that she was cursed to live in the stars with him, where only he belonged; where she would be a burden to him, as she always was.

She felt a cold kiss on her lips and flashed back to the night before, just as Loki said he loved her again. Suddenly, she could pinpoint the exact moment the connection had started, and her mind opened to the realization that came crashing down upon her. It had been obvious, looking back; how could she not have felt it? They had been so lost in each other, skin on skin and lips on lips, that when they had come together and finally became one, finally let go and melted into each other in that indescribable moment that her mother had never told her about - of course! The connection had formed in that moment, in that second, but Sigyn had been too… too high and in love to feel it.

The remembrance made her realize that every word he was confessing was true. Every second of the previous night had not been done with obligation as she had thought; it had been love that made their togetherness so special, so right. She could feel Loki’s honesty in her own mind, she could feel her own love being circled back into her, reciprocated by the one person she never thought could love her.

“Loki?” She said, as if waking up from a deep slumber. A smile spread across her lips, and all self-consciousness was gone. Forgetting the warmth of her fur, Sigyn slung her arms around Loki’s neck, her hand going to his hair as she squeezed him tightly for a long, long moment. “I love you, too. Gods, I love you! I -” She pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. “I can’t believe you love me.”

[motherofmourning]

lordofliars:

Loki noticed her change in body language the second he changed the subject. She seemed downtrodden, almost. Maybe it was his question - was she upset about being royalty, after spending so much time being subjugated by the very king who was now her father-in-law? Or was it the change of subject itself that caused her abrupt change in behavior?

Before he could get to the bottom of it, Sigyn pulled away, covering herself as if she was suddenly self conscious about their proximity. He started to move towards her, to close the gap between them once more, but then -

Love hit him so hard the air was knocked out of his chest.

It felt as though it were happening in slow motion. He leaned forward, a puff of air escaping his lips at the sheer volume of feelings he was suddenly bombarded with. Green eyes closed as his memories were combed through, replacing any platonic feelings he thought Sigyn harbored towards him in the past into feelings of love, pure, genuine love.

And it had always been there.

A crush turned to like, then like turned to love, then love turned to… what could it be called?

Fidelity.

Loki opened his eyes, only to wake from his experience staring into the blue eyes of the woman who loved him. She loved him. “Sigyn.” It was the only word he could get out. “Sigyn,” he repeated, weakly, moving towards her and closing the gap between them. Two cold hands moved to hold her jaws as he looked at her, fully appreciating her beauty, not unlike the night before. “Sigyn.”

Sigyn had felt it leave her - it being the entirety of her heart’s contents. All of her feelings, the love, her silent promises, her quiet but constant vow to never leave Loki’s side… they were with him now, too. The dam broke, and there was no place between them that separated the two newlyweds - there was no place where Sigyn began and Loki ended. They were one being, united in mind, body, and soul. And she could feel it still. His presence. It was lingering almost shyly in the back of her mind, afraid to reach out despite her beckoning it with what little she had left to do so.

There was a sudden moment where Sigyn felt irreparably guilty for having dumped such a large amount on her husband (her husband!), especially after his reaction. It was physical; Loki exhaled as if someone had struck him, and he leaned forward like he was now carrying a weight on his back - the weight of her love. For it was easy for Sigyn to carry such heavy feelings - she had always assumed she would not have been given such strong feelings without the ability to harbor them, secretly or not - but what if Loki could not? Of course he could, she corrected herself; but would he want to?

The marriage was arranged. He hadn’t been able to choose the path he wanted, to choose a wife to wed and the life to live. As always, the rug of choice had been ripped from beneath the youngest prince by the Allfather, and Sigyn had been placed unceremoniously in front of him as a political tool to calm the peasant uprising. And while Sigyn had been thrilled in her own secret way, and Loki had seemed all right with it… what if the truth of how she felt changed his mind? What if Loki had never intended love to be apart of this arrangement?

But then cold hands woke her from her wide-eyed trance, freezing the fear in her heart and melting it with her own name. Tears sprung to her eyes without control or thought, and small hands went to grasp Loki’s on her cheeks, clinging desperately to him as if to keep herself from falling. “Loki, I’m - I’m so sorry,” she cried, screwing her eyes shut and trying to stop herself from being such a fool. “I didn’t mean to do that, I’m not even sure how I did it, I just - I’ve held it in my heart for so long, and -” 

Slowly, Sigyn pulled her hands away and tensed, suddenly realizing that even though his voice was soft and his touch was gentle, that perhaps her feelings were too much for him. How could they not be? And since she was in no state of mind or body to test the waters of their connection and prod at his feelings (she doubted she would ever do that anyway) and so her automatic assumption was that she was not wanted. For surely, he did not return her feelings; and so to feel it would be a burden for him to carry. She would be a burden. She always was.

“I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I,” she whispered, a statement more than a question. She was not ashamed of her love - she could never be ashamed of something that made up so much of her very soul - but feared that perhaps he was not ready for the full extent of it; and yet he had received it anyway, and in so much more than words alone. Blissfully unaware of how each of her thoughts and feelings would flow so freely into Loki’s mind, Sigyn continued, voice cracking as she attempted to withhold her emotions. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll - I’ll try not to let it happen a-again, I promise…”

[motherofmourning]

lordofliars:

Loki watched his young wife move towards him, all but consumed with the feelings of her dreamy thoughts - and confusion. He shifted just slightly for her when she joined him on the small window seat, placing a gentle hand on her fur-covered hip as she sat down. “I know.” He said it simply, knowingly. He knew what he’d done; he could feel it the moment, the second, it formed. “I couldn’t stop it.”

A cold hand covered Sigyn’s smaller one over his skin, his fingers closing around hers. “I do. I can feel it,” he whispered, his quiet tone matching her own. It felt so personal being near her, so close, and he had a feeling it would only grow with time. “My mother warned me when I was a youth about the possibility of telepathically connecting to others,” he gave her a half-smile. “Apparently that warning wasn’t taken seriously.”

He exhaled, looking out of the window at the waking, wild world outside of their little cabin. Sigyn didn’t seem to be upset about having him as a husband, as far as he could tell. He couldn’t - or, wouldn’t - enter her thoughts to find the truth. He would never do that to her. He knew there were other, simpler ways to find the truth without having to ask outright. “So, how does it feel to be a princess?”

The dreamy cloudiness of her thoughts subsided, but her mind still wasn’t as it once was. There was a difference, a presence, and she felt it strongly - she could hear it, connect further to it the longer she was awake. The more she reached out in confusion, the more it grew comfortably in its nook of her mind, curling into her like a missing puzzle piece that she had been searching everywhere for.

Sigyn felt her skin melt into the coldness of Loki’s hand over hers, not at all unlike she had the night before. There was something pleasing about learning it was two-sided; perhaps it felt good to be so close to Loki, or maybe it was a relief to not fret over if her actions properly represented her thoughts. He could feel her just as she felt him…

He would surely know now, would he not? He would learn of how much - how long - she loved him. She could physically feel the strength and heaviness of her undying, ever faithful love for him flowing like a waterfall towards him, towards his mind, but he had somehow blocked off his side like a dam against the rushing waters of her soul. Perhaps he did not like their connection as much as Sigyn wanted to believe; perhaps he had truly made a mistake.

“Nor were many other warnings, I’m sure,” she jested quietly, her hands falling from his chest and landing in her lap, gracefully folding into her other hand in a ladylike habit that would surely never die. “You did nothing wrong, Loki. You did not mean to do it, and it isn’t hurting anyone. I…” I love it. But as always, she did not finish her sentence. Her small - albeit genuine - smile shifted into a near frown at Loki’s next words - or perhaps at his blatant attempt to change the subject - and she had to look away and gather her thoughts before even thinking of answering.

Sigyn spoke to the window, looking out into the deep wilderness as if addressing the morning creatures rustling about in the grass and underbrush. “It… feels strange. I don’t feel any different, and yet I’m living a different life.” She turned back to Loki, now too self-conscious and worried to lean any closer; due to his reluctance towards their accident telepathic connection, as he called it, Sigyn shifted backwards on the seat, pulling the fur around herself with a very badly hidden downtrodden expression. “I feel as though I’m living someone else’s life,” she continued, her tone one of flat confusion. “But I still feel…” 

She met his gaze head-on, blue versus green. Unable to even remotely control - or even understand! - what power she now held within her own mind, Sigyn let loose such a strong feeling of love and fidelity that she physically exhaled from the loss of it. She had held such feelings and emotions back for her entire life, and now that they had a corridor leading straight to the one person they had always been intended for, they flowed freely from her untrained mind and crashed into Loki, dam or no dam. “I still feel as though I… I belong here. I belong with you, Loki. That much hasn’t changed.”

[motherofmourning]

lordofliars:

It was early; probably five or six o’clock, but he wasn’t tired. He was too deep in thought for that.

Loki sat in the window seat, staring off into the cold dawn. He didn’t feel the cold, though. Even though he lacked a shirt and shoes, he felt none of the cool air that was surely pressed against the window, begging to alleviate the heat coming from the last few embers in the fireplace from the night before.

Somewhere behind him, his wife of one day lay sleeping in their first shared bed. He glanced back at her perfect form, thinking about how different everything was now as compared to before - in more ways than one.

He took a deep breath.

He hadn’t meant to do it. In fact, he actively tried to stop it. But it had happened.

She will feel it when she wakes, he thought to himself, almost feeling removed from the situation somehow, like it was happening to someone else. She will feel it. The difference. The slight nagging in the back of her mind that’s telling her she’s never alone. It could be a calming presence, or a tense one, or an angry one; that would depend on whatever he felt.

The new connection between their minds would be permanent, he knew that much. It wasn’t a one-way street, either; no, he could feel it too. He could feel her dreaming. Her deep, slow breaths. She was calm. She was happy. It felt good.

Loki was suddenly roused from his thoughts by a quiet rustling behind him. He tilted his head towards the bed, a sly smile on his face. “Did I wake you, love?”

The slight buzzing of consciousness nipped at Sigyn’s mind, pushing her gently towards the light that dispelled the darkness of her dreams. She usually dreaded such places, filled only with nightmares and bad memories; but this time it was different. Her dreams were filled only with… feelings, rather than her fears or memories. Feelings and thoughts. Sigyn’s eyes opened slowly, gently, and one word fell silently upon her lips. 

Loki. 

They were married, and they just had shared their first night together in a cabin nestled deep in the great Asgardian forest, far to the north of the palace and any civilization. It had been much preferred to the traditional wedding bed, where others watched to be sure of consummation; perhaps that was an honor meant for heir-making, and they had been spared of such a nightmare in favor of a much more personal night. And gods, had it been amazing; and it had not hurt, as her mother had warned her so fervently about. Loki had been well aware of her fear and crippling self-consciousness, and in his usual, sly fashion, he had made everything okay with gentle kisses, quiet whispers, and soft hands.

But now, waking from that nightlong feeling of closeness with the one she loved most in all the Nine Realms, Sigyn felt different. Her life had been so far filled with loneliness and isolation, and though the previous night had proved to be an ailment to some of those feelings, there was now something in the back of her mind that assured her that she would never be alone again.

Sigyn rustled beneath cold sheets, her mind opening willingly to this new feeling, and the realization of what exactly was in the back of her mind whispering promises became clear when she heard his voice.

Loki!

It was a river flowing two ways, filled with emotions and little thoughts that weren’t her own. But it didn’t scare her; not in the slightest. In fact, it felt as if she had always wanted it to be there, as if she had been waiting for it her entire life. There had been a whole in her soul where Loki now nestled comfortably, and somehow she knew he could, in that waking moment, feel the warmth of her love flowing strongly between them in a way it never had before. She sat up, unafraid of her nakedness for the first time in her life. There was nothing more to hide, after all; no point in modesty, body or soul. 

“No, you didn’t… you didn’t wake me,” she assured him, her brows furrowing a little. Without thought, Sigyn pulled the fur blanket that had sometime during the night been tossed from the bed around her bare form and walked towards the window seat that was tucked in the cold corner, farthest from the dying fire. Sitting across from her new husband (but mostly on his lap; the seat wasn’t very large), the princess’s head tilted as she stared into her husband’s eyes.

“Loki, I can feel you,” she said dreamily, as if she hadn’t quite woken up from a dream yet. Her hand exited the warmth of the fur and firmly pressed against the flesh between Loki’s chest and throat, the contrast of hot and cold serving as a sharp reminder of their first night together. She could feel the pulse of his blood under her palm, but she could also feel it inside of her, pumping along with her own racing heart. “I can feel… all of you, in my mind. You’re here. It’s like you’ve always been here.” She shifted closer to him, physically having to stop herself from kissing him; the… bond in her mind all but consumed her with a feeling of being connected, and her body desperately wanted to follow its lead. “Do you feel it, too?”

[motherofmourning]

lordofliars:

Concern coated the future-god’s features for just a moment at her cough; was she ill again? She had never been the hardiest of Asgardians, and he knew every time the Cold came through she ultimately ended up on bedrest for one illness or another. He just barely reached out to hold her arm - she was to be his wife, after all - but he drew back his arm, stopping himself from fully acting on the rare moment of compassion. No. Now wasn’t the time to show any weaknesses.

His eyes fell to the ground at her confusion. He knew any further explanation would mean telling her everything, and he, being unsure of how she’d react, wasn’t particularly excited to find out her reply. “He’s made a decision,” he repeated slowly, his eyes still downcast, “that I’m to be married.”

Loki looked at her then, pausing, a rare mix of honesty and feeling in his eyes. He gazed into her blue eyes for a moment, wishing she would somehow just know what he was supposed to say without him having to say it. She looked so concerned, and he could tell she was expecting him to say something very much different from what he was truly about to say. “To you.”

Sigyn’s vision blurred and doubled, causing the room and even the bed beneath her to spin out of control. Her head throbbed like mad beneath her skull, but the sobs that caused the pain to worsen just wouldn’t stop. She felt as though she was in a dream — no, a nightmare. To live a life as Loki’s wife was a dream; but to have him forced against his will was a nightmare. It was a sick and twisted turn of fate for both of them, she thought.

But when her gaze rested upon Loki’s features, the next cry that threatened to clench her throat got stuck in her chest, and the room halted its incessant movements — for as always, Sigyn’s top priority was making sure Loki was alright in all aspects; and he certainly did not seem so at the moment. There was a look in his gaze that was dissimilar to anything she’d seen gleam in those beautiful eyes before, and not being able to read him was a startling change of habit. The prince seemed distraught, but above that he seemed… stuck.

But of course… she couldn’t imagine how horrible such news might’ve been for him. Yes, they were friends, they always had been; and yes, perhaps a marriage to someone he knew was preferred above the alternative — marrying a stranger of noble blood who was a little too eager to become a princess of Asgard. But this was Loki’s life, and marrying a peasant girl who was barely of age and sick most days than not was surely not what he had had in mind for his future. And her future, well… she had always thought she’d work on her family’s property for the rest of her life, rejecting any man who came knocking in favor of watching a black-haired prince from afar, and perhaps even protecting him from the few things he didn’t see coming.

The cool touch of Loki’s hand cleared her vision and thoughts enough so that the girl could look clearly into the other’s bright green eyes, and blue hues stared imploringly as if she would be happy to die staring in those eyes.

I do not think of this marriage as some form of punishment from my father. Tears sprung to Sigyn’s eyes, but not for the reason she had thought. She should have been relieved that he had accepted his fate politely — but gods, she was angry in what little way she could be in that small and broken moment. She had never respected or even liked Odin, but this… this was by far the most horrible thing he’d ever done — to force his youngest son into a position such as this, with a wife such as her.

Sigyn’s breath came from her lungs in one, quiet breath as Loki held her against him, and perhaps in that moment things weren’t as bad as they seemed. Her cheek felt cool against his chest, and her eyes screwed tightly shut as if to will the tears to stop. The moment lasted too short of a time, it seemed, and she forced a heavy head to lift and meet his eyes once again. 

She forced herself to nod. “As if he would say no,” she said, a tiny and quiet attempt at a jest. The tiniest of smiles disappeared, however, in the coming seconds. Sigyn’s voice stopped cooperating long enough for Loki to have made it to her bedroom door before she was able to speak again. “You don’t deserve this, Loki,” she said quietly, tears falling unhindered once more. “You deserve to be happy. Perhaps it — perhaps it would be better if I —” Even if her impending sob had allowed her to, she wouldn’t have finished the sentence. 

Sigyn forced herself from her bed, not thinking for a moment of the shocking state of undress she was in — or the amount of sunlight creeping through the window and shining onto the rather white and sheer fabric of her gown. Knowing there would undoubtedly be company later on, Sigyn attempted to make it to her siblings’ shared dresser, and to the brush that felt heavy in her hands. Catching a glimpse of her own pale and crying form before her in the looking-glass that sat on top of the dresser made her face contort, and the sight of Loki’s straight-postured figure in the reflection behind her caused her to hang her head in what felt a lot like shame. “Gods, you deserve so much better.”

[motherofmourning]

rougeblancandbleu:

Kennedy sat on the comfortable sofa, silent. Was she supposed to talk? The goddess across from her seemed lost in thought, for lack of a better phrase, and she hated to disturb her.

She was already in unfamiliar surroundings. Ronan had left to speak with his dad about something outside, in the cold (Ronan always made excuses to go out in the cold, and she recently learned that Loki had always done the same), and she was left with Sigyn, alone.

Now, she didn’t know her very well, but as far as she could tell, they really had nothing in common.

She knew the basic backstory: Sigyn was a peasant girl who lived a seriously tough life before being betrothed to a prince, then a some (vague) bad shit happened to them that’s best left unsaid, and they had a bunch of kids and bam! Her fiancé popped up and blew her away. But other than those basics, she knew nothing about her.

She almost physically jumped at the sound of Sigyn’s voice breaking the silence between them. “Oh, yeah, kinda,” she responded, rubbing her hands forward across the tops of her thighs - a nervous tick she’d picked up from Ronan. “I mean, besides the obvious alien stuff, I’d say the sky is, like, super different. Every time I look up I expect to see blue, but it’s all gold. And things are… floating. Like, land. Land is floating.” She shrugged, giving the other woman a small smile. “But I like it. I really do.”

Bright blue eyes, slightly sunken with the lack of sleep due to a sickness caught in the wintery coldness, immediately caught the twitch of Kennedy’s hands. They moved and pressed against the girl’s thin thighs in nearly the same exact fashion as Ronan’s did when he was so often anxious, and Sigyn almost expected to be pleased - they were close enough to share quirks, yes? That was a good sign that they weren’t rushing into a marriage or doing anything they would regret.

It had, of course, happened to she and Loki, all of those years ago; even before they were wed - or even betrothed - they had shared common twitches and phrases and jokes, sometimes only known to them, and them alone.

But Sigyn’s heart felt heavy. Perhaps it was the house, and her empathy was overcoming her; or maybe it was the nagging feeling of nausea in the pit of her stomach that was making her uneasy. But the sight of Kennedy’s hands caused the princess to hide a frown, and that’s when she realized -

She didn’t want Kennedy to take Ronan from her.

She had already lost two sons. And even though Ronan wouldn’t leave her in the same way - no one could - it still felt as though she was leaving a part of her very soul with the girl sitting in front of her, and she wasn’t at all sure if she wanted to.

Kennedy’s response, however, eased Sigyn if only a little, and if only for a moment or two. While no one would claim the daughter of Steve Rogers was eloquent with her words, Sigyn felt the sincereness from them, and perhaps that was more important.

“Gravity is not the same here,” Sigyn said, smiling with a small amount of contained, kind amusement at the other’s way with words. “That’s why humans can’t stay here for long. It disagrees with what your bodies have become accustomed to on Midgard.” She paused, giving Kennedy a small, knowing smirk. “But that’s for ordinary humans, I suppose.”

After a moment, the goddess recalled a time when she had been the betrothed, in the home of royalty, always desperately trying to earn the respect of her fiancé’s family. While it had been quite impossible for her (for more reasons than one), Sigyn decided to make Kennedy’s experience a good one, even if her attempts at doing so were as simple as speaking in the silence.

“I don’t much like Midgard,” Sigyn said, assuming the other wasn’t going to start any conversations; at least not until they knew each other a little better. “I used to, but… well, I’m sure you can guess why my tastes have changed.”

[motherofmourning]

There was a fleeting moment, somewhere between glancing at her surroundings and worrying about who and what was behind the closest door (as had become a habit) that Sigyn had nearly forgotten about her company. Sitting on the couch opposite of Sigyn, Kennedy was the picture of the perfect daughter-in-law; or at least, soon-to-be. 

Kennedy was clad in the simple, peach-colored Asgardian dress that had been a gift from Ronan, though her physique lacked a corset (Sigyn was sure she didn’t need one, but the goddess was wearing one quite tightly around her own sternum). Sigyn had called upon her own personal maid to braid the girl’s hair, and if one did not know her, they would surely think she was a local.

The parlor in the palace that the newly-crowned King Thor (it felt strange to even think of it) had given them had once upon a time been their newlywed palace, and it held many memories; mostly bittersweet.

Sigyn often found herself lost in thought, with the sounds of tiny forgotten footsteps echoing in her mind and in her heart, making clear the two holes that nestled in her chest. This place was haunted to her, with more than one small soul.

The goddess took a deep breath. her eyes glittered in the smallest of signs of tears, but she blinked them away.

“You must be quite shocked at Asgard with your prolonged stay,” Sigyn started, a quiet attempt at conversation. Ronan and Loki had gone outside to discuss who-knows-what in the mild Asgardian winter, but Sigyn hoped they didn’t stay out too long. “Is it much different than Midgard, do you think?”

[motherofmourning]

and only scars remain

[motherofmourning]

lordofliars:

When he saw her - Sigyn, his Sigyn - standing there, Loki smiled his usual, sly smile; a smile that could have potentially held enough dark secrets to fill an endless cavern on Svartalfheim - potentially. She looked beautiful, as always, with her silver hair gleaming in the sunlight. He smiled again when she spotted him, this time with more affection.

“Sigyn,” he said quietly, hoping not to disturb her family. He started towards her and, after shutting the small, worn out gate behind him, he noticed her posture. She was tense, startled, and it almost seemed like she was preparing to take a blow. For just a moment, he thought it was because of him. He almost stepped back in surprise, ready to apologize for any offense he may have caused, when he saw it.

Someone - someone - had hurt her. She tried to hide it, but Loki always knew when people were hiding things; hiding things was basically a lie. And she had never been good at lying, not even when they were children.

Loki moved to her, looking down at her from well above her small frame. He gently moved the hair out of her face and examined the bruise. “What happened here?” He said jestingly, smiling slightly. He pretended to be light-hearted about the situation; he wanted to know if she planned on lying to him. “Did you fall again?”

Sigyn’s breathing quickened, and her chest heaved up and down with he struggle of breathing through the tight strings of a corset. Not only that, but when Thoeric had... when he’d gotten angry, she’d ended up falling down quite a ways, and she’d bruised a rib. It was acting up now, as Loki stepped so close, and he breathing was of course going to be erratic.

She could feel the coolness radiating from his hand when he moved her hair, and her eyes filled with tears at the closeness in proximity. Keeping things a secret from her family was one thing (because the likelihood of things being blamed on her were far too high), but keeping something from Loki was wrong. It felt truly, inherently impossible to lie or keep anything from him; it always had. And so she came to the small, meek conclusion that she couldn’t, even if it meant outing Theoric’s behavior and receiving another blow that night. Or two, or three. 

The tears building in blue eyes spilled over one eyelashes, and Sigyn lowered her head to try and hide the bruise once more, although she was more than a little certain that Loki had already figured it wasn’t from a fall, of course. But she had to hide; she felt rotten, like she’d done everything wrong and that she deserved what Theoric did. And perhaps she did.

“Yes,” she whispered, and it wasn’t a lie; the blow had been so hard that she had fallen, hence the bruised rib and blue cheek. Sigyn was no fool, however; she knew Loki would see through her and her poor lies like glass. Her only fear was that she’d shatter like glass, too. 

She tried to take a shaky breath, but the pain in her rib and the closeness of Loki’s body was enough to make a sob escape instead, and she quickly turned away from the prince and towards Theoric’s horse. The sight of the horse, however, only made Sigyn worse, and suddenly she was filled with the small amount of rage of which she was capable through her fear, pain, and sadness. She eyed the horse for a second, glanced down at the brush, and then promptly threw it as hard as she could (which, to be fair, wasn’t very hard) against the stable’s wooden wall.

It proved to be a mistake, though, as was expected; the pain in her back was immense, and the twisting motion she’d made to throw it sent her and her dress into the icy dirt beneath her. Her hands caught the fall, but now they hurt, too, and she was sobbing in the dirt in front of Loki and nothing could be worse.

[motherofmourning]

lordofliars:

Concern coated the future-god’s features for just a moment at her cough; was she ill again? She had never been the hardiest of Asgardians, and he knew every time the Cold came through she ultimately ended up on bedrest for one illness or another. He just barely reached out to hold her arm - she was to be his wife, after all - but he drew back his arm, stopping himself from fully acting on the rare moment of compassion. No. Now wasn’t the time to show any weaknesses.

His eyes fell to the ground at her confusion. He knew any further explanation would mean telling her everything, and he, being unsure of how she’d react, wasn’t particularly excited to find out her reply. “He’s made a decision,” he repeated slowly, his eyes still downcast, “that I’m to be married.”

Loki looked at her then, pausing, a rare mix of honesty and feeling in his eyes. He gazed into her blue eyes for a moment, wishing she would somehow just know what he was supposed to say without him having to say it. She looked so concerned, and he could tell she was expecting him to say something very much different from what he was truly about to say. “To you.”

Somewhere in her heart, in her mind, in her soul, she must have already known. There must have been some sort of guess, some sort of prediction, because when Loki uttered the word married, a tear fell from Sigyn’s eye, synched with the thought of losing him forever to a stuck up wife of noble blood who would never let her prince of a husband be friends with a peasant girl like Sigyn.

Dry, pale lips parted and she took in a short breath, her gaze locked onto Loki’s in a familiar yet different way. There was something more in his eyes, something else that she’d never seen but perhaps once. Perhaps he knew it, too; he knew that once he was married, the likelihood of them never seen each other again rose exponentially, and having been friends for so long... it was hard to comes to terms with.

It was impossible, actually. But it wasn’t Sigyn’s decision or place to say anything different.

Loki’s next two words sent all of the air (what little she had left after coughing for three days) from Sigyn’s lungs, and she made a sound that could be described as something between a sob and a gasp, with a choking cough caught in the middle.

“No,” she whispered, her voice struggling to make it out of her cracked and dry throat. If they had been farther apart (as her mother’s rules would dictate, as she never would have allowed them to sit this close) he might not have been able to hear her, but as it was, he undoubtedly could. “No, he --- he can’t! He can’t ---” Tears streamed down unhealthily pale cheeks, and chapped lips parted in a sob. “He can’t do that to you!”

[motherofmourning]

lordofliars:

Despite Thor’s seeming excitement, the Allfather’s news hadn’t gone over well for Loki. He didn’t like being caught off-guard, and, usually, he never was, but today was different. Today was different.

He knew it was cold outside, but as he walked out into the world from the palace, he didn’t feel a thing. It was probably the shock, he told himself. He always had an excuse; it made him feel less like an outsider.

He walked up to Sigyn’s home, taking a deep breath before knocking. His breath came out in a plume as Sigyn’s father, Iwaldi, opened the door and immediately invited him inside. Loki liked her father; he was the only one in her family he was willing to speak to. He smiled a relaxed smile that looked genuine to any outsider, but he knew that it wouldn’t fool Sigyn once he got to her.

He immediately asked for her and, learning that she was in the room she shared with her older sister, he made his way to the back of the tiny cottage (if it even lived up to the name of “cottage”). He walked right into her room, the idea of knocking never even crossing his mind. “Sigyn,” he said matter-of-factly, gently shutting the door behind him. Even though it was the last thing in the Nine Realms he wanted to do, Odin had told him to go tell her the news immediately. And no one disobeyed his father, not even Thor.

“Sigyn.” Loki repeated, this time softer. “I need to speak with you.” He sat down on her bed - a very forward move - and looked up at her, a position he wasn’t used to being in. “My father spoke with me this morning about the peasant uprising. He… needed my help,” he paused for just a moment, carefully thinking over his next words. “He decided on a solution.”

Vistors, while usually unwelcomed, were anything but rare at Sigyn’s house. Her mother liked to talk a lot about loving company (probably because she liked to entertain the idea that the entire village didn’t dislike her, which they most certainly did), when it actually came to serving guests food and drink they didn’t even have and listening to stories about farming, her mother almost always excused herself and placed Sigyn in her place.

It’s good training, she would always say. For when you’re married, and run your own house! But Sigyn felt that she would never be married. Not happily enough to entertain guests so easily, at least; it simply wasn’t her fate. The gods must have had something different in store for her.. At least the idea of marrying Theoric were done with, once and for all.

And so, with all of that being said, the commotion outside which sounded very much like a visitor both confused and saddened Sigyn. On one hand, who would be visiting at such an early hour? On the other, Sigyn had fallen ill a few days before, and was certainly not looking forward to having to play housewife for her mother.

But the sound of her father's voice (ever the calming sound to her, for it ywassuch a pleasant contrast to her mother’s barks and commands) set her mind at ease. It was undoubtedly a neighbor friend of father’s, then, and she could continue to lie in her bed and not worry about much at all. She wasn’t ready for company, anyway; she was wearing only a simple, thin gown, with no corset to speak of, and her hair wasn’t done up at all --- rather, it was cascading in shiny waves all around her, serving as a little bit of warmth in the frozen rooms she and her siblings called home.

But then there was another voice with her father’s, and Sigyn sat up so quickly that she became quite lightheaded indeed. Her hand went to her burning forehead, and she hadn’t any time to prepare herself before Loki was in her room....

Loki was in her room!

“Loki!” Even through he illness and shock, a bright smile showed up on the girl’s features at the sight of the only person she’d ever truly loved. The only person she would ever, ever love. But her joy faded as he sat down, and any self-conscious thoughts of being corset-less and ill-looking were gone at his disposition. But still; Loki was sitting on her bed!

Her face contorted in confusion when he spoke, and she shook her head slightly. At first she thought perhaps he just wanted to speak of something his horrible father had done, as he came to her for such things quite often (for no one else would hear the second son’s complaints but her, the friend of the spare).

“A decision? I... I’m confused.” Worry etched on delicate features, the sight of a burning vision floating in front of her mind’s eye. “What ---” She had to pause to cough, here, but then continued as if nothing had happened,”What has he done, Loki?” 

[motherofmourning]

and only scars remain

@lordofliars

There was resistance when she pushed the crude brush through the mane of the horse. He hadn’t been brushed in far too long, it seemed, and she knew she would be outside (in the freezing cold) brushing the tangles out. Theoric has said it was cheaper to keep his stead at her house than in the public stables. Sigyn was certain that he not only knew it would be on her chore list to take care of him, but also that that was exactly what he expected her to do. But, of course, that was normal; they were to be married, surely. She’d have to get used to doing a lot of things for him --- as well as things he did to her. She still had the bruises.

With a long, weak sigh, her breath plumed out like smoke into the dusk air. She shushed and calmed the horse (who she had affectionately named Eiffe, which was simple Effie backwards) and continued to gently comb through his hair and ---

A loud gasp escaped her when someone walked through the gate that surrounded the small property she called “home.” The brush dropped from her hands, and she visibly paled as her muscles tensed and her eyes screwed shut; but she relaxed when she saw it was only Loki; and while her mother would have a fit about having a prince there, Sigyn was just glad to see Loki.

“Loki,” she said, easily exhaling as the fear of Theoric coming for a visit disappeared. “You frightened me!” She giggled, bending down to retrieve the comb, all while moving her hair from behind her ear to try and conceal the barely-visible (but still there) bruise on her upper left cheek. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

[motherofmourning]

colder, colder

[motherofmourning]

saintpiper:

Piper wondered what you say to a goddess. Small talk? Can you even talk about random stuff, like the weather, with deities? 

She was ashamed of how little she knew about Norse mythology, and now she was really regretting not picking up that book she saw at the library - Norse Gods for Dummies. She was still on that train of thought when she heard her name, and she looked up quickly, concern on her face at Sigyn’s tone of voice.

When Piper saw her, when Sigyn weakly grasped her arm, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Something’s wrong. She moved across the blanket to her, holding her arm. “What’s wrong?” She made a move to go get help, but something inside of her was screaming don’t leave her alone!. “I can help, just tell me what to do.”

Her hand was positioned under her belly, supporting the weight there with little to show for it; the other hand had reached out to Piper, whose accent threw Sigyn off for just a second. She was still tempted at times not to speak her own language, and so the many different kinds of English still made her think for a moment --- especially in her current state.

She noticed Piper’s move to leave and grasped her arm even tighter, both to keep her where she was and for support as another pain came on --- were they contractions, this early? Or something else entirely, something far more sinister? But then she realized Piper was never going to leave, and forced a small, shaky smile.

Sitting cross-legged in the grass, Sigyn squeezed the other’s arm comfortingly. “Please, do not worry --- I don’t think I’m in harm’s way,” she explained, an easy lie to keep Piper calm. “But can you contact one of the others? Preferably Jane, and have her contact Thor, who needs to contact Loki.” She grimaced at how complicated it had to be, with Thor and Loki in Asgard. “I would... I would contact Loki myself, but I am far too weak. Jane has a better chance.”